Pictures On Silence
by Life'sAMystiRhi
Summary: Percy Jackson was a musician who didn't care about anything. After so much time in the business it sort of just stopped, until he sees Annabeth,the first person who gets him to feel something… anything.He changes her LIFE forever, she changes HIM forever.


Pictures on Silence

Chapter 1- Hallelujah

"A painter paints his pictures on canvas. But musicians paint their pictures on silence […]"

Summary: Percy Jackson was a musician who didn't care about anything. After so much time in the business it sort of just stopped, until he sees Annabeth, the first person who gets him to feel something… anything. He changes her life forever, she changes him forever.

"**[…] her eyes shined like grey diamonds. They were tiny orbs filled with swirling thunderstorms."**

**OoOoOoOoO**

"Silence is a beautiful gift and a deadly poison. Most people yearn for it, an escape from their hectic lives, if only for a second they can be careless and free. Some people despise silence, it screams the truths you so vigorously try to escape, and it lets your mind wander into hidden and dark territory, a place where it can be lost…forever.

Silence can spark the senses and kill a crowd. It's the difference between a roaring applause and a noiseless audience. Silence truly is the basis of everything created, everything existing, and everything destroyed. Most of us can create it, a select few can mold it, play with it, run with it, paint on it.

In theory, a musician's paintings don't exist. Why is it, then, that they are often what we find ourselves humming on the subway? Why is it, then, that they are often what we find ourselves replaying over and over in our minds? Why is it, then, that these paintings can completely change the mood of one person or an entire room for hours or even change the person for their entire life?

You see, silence is not just a beautiful gift and deadly poison, it can be a third thing. Silence is a playground for the creative and talented, time and space are lost until the canvas silence provides is completely covered. As our kindergarten teachers would say, no white spaces left uncolored, as our elder generation would say, no town left not painted red. So, go ahead, run around, have a swing, bruise your knee, get back up, throw a ball, just don't leave until there is no more silence uncovered." The woman finished her speech with a cheesy smile that I could tell was feigned. She was older and jaded, definitely too old for me, so I wasn't even sure why I was still listening. As far as I'm concerned, if you're hard to look at, you're not worth listening to. Something about her was different though.

No, it wasn't in any way how she looked. Her hair was graying though you could tell at a glance that she attempted to cover it. Her light crow's feet and slightly wrinkled face was covered with a heavy foundation that only filled in the indentions she earned with age. Her eyes were falling, probably under the pressure of her children and her husband, maybe not having enough money to pay the bills. Who knows? Who cares? I certainly didn't. So, why am I so entranced?

Every other celebrity in the room was silently checking their iPhones, waiting for her to leave the stage and for the nominations to begin. Nobody cared about what she had to say, I really didn't either... it was kind of bullshit if you ask me. I hadn't cared for a while now though, after so many Grammys, so many wild parties, and sessions in the recording studio you start to hit a point of diminishing returns on the whole giving a crap thing.

The crowd erupted with applause as the woman exited the stage. The click of iPhones being shut down filled the room, truly louder than the applause itself, as what everybody came here to see began. Nomination time… My agent wished me good luck, lightly punching my shoulder. I smiled politely and thanked him. When will my agent realize I didn't need "luck"? I'm Percy effing Jackson.

Annabeth's Point Of View

I swear my eyes were going to fall out of my head if I rolled them one more time. How could I help it though? My step mother just said so many things that deserved an eye roll. By now I was an expert at it. My step mother continued talking as my dad put the keys into the large wooden double doors to the home he had designed for us.

"That sermon just sent shivers down my spine. Didn't it send shivers down your spine honey?" She asked my dad, not giving him enough time to answer. "It was truly riveting; it makes me want to change my life… our lives. Doesn't it just kill you that there are people out there starving, with nowhere to sleep? I feel like we could do something more ya'know? Ah..." she gaped in amazement for only second, "truly life changing." You could plainly see why my father loved her, superficially it was written all over her face. Her foreign beauty was obvious though it wasn't in your face. Her eyes shined like polished jet black stones that matched the color of her waves of hair (though I couldn't tell if it was natural) and her lips were a soft nude hue. My dad only looked at her with adoration, I, however, am a different story.

"Life changing, huh? Nice Alexander McQueen dress you're wearing there. How much was that again?" I mumbled to myself as I walked through the dark wood opening.

"What?" She asked.

"Hm? I didn't say anything." I falsely professed as my step mother dropped the keys on the table in the foyer. She smiled without a care in the world, oblivious to the world as she walked off into the house with a groggy and half-asleep Bobby in one arm.

My dad closed the door silently behind all of us; he didn't want to wake Matthew who was asleep in his arms. They were both clad in dark-ish blue sweaters and gray trousers. I chuckled at the idea that was either a coincidence or the product of my step mother's wandering brain. My dad a very rugged American look, roughly cut jaws that were speckled with prickly hairs. His hair was disheveled and a sandy color that wasn't nearly as light blonde as mine, our eyes weren't even the same color. His eyes were a deep blue; mine a swirling pool of grey, my looks were maybe the only thing my mom had ever given me.

Matthew's light snores could be heard as my dad nudged me slightly. "Annabeth…" he spoke.

"Fredrick…" I replied, mocking his tone.

His eyes widened as if to say "I'm being serious." And he most likely was. "Annabeth, I'm being serious. I just want you to try… just a little? Please? For me?" he asked, almost begging me.

"I am trying… trying to resist the urge to punch her in the face every time I lay eyes on her." I exhaled a bit. "She isn't trying so why should I?"

"She is trying, Annabeth, harder than you know." My dad began trying to persuade me.

"Yeah, trying to replace my mom and," I continued louder so she might hear, "SHE NEVER WILL."

"Your mother left Annabeth, she is never coming back! If you ask me, she needs to be replaced, she deserves it and you deserve a mom who cares about you." It took only a second for what he said to register in both of our minds. I turned to walk up stairs. As I walked away, I could hear him try to salvage the truth. "No, I- it isn't…" he attempted to force out. He did mean it; it was true I thought as I closed the door to my room.

I could hear my step mother fumbling around in the kitchen, probably putting some finishing touches on Sunday morning brunch. Weekends were always the same; Fridays for homework, Saturday night for church to leave Sunday vacant for the socialite brunches my step mother frequently hosted and that my father begrudgingly attended.

I thrust myself on my bed and just stared at the ceiling for what felt like hours. I felt the tingle of my fresh and unused duvet cover against my skin. My hands gripped at the down-feather blanket as it crinkled between my fingers. My eyes traced the whimsical swirls of the mural on my ceiling. The brush strokes danced around the ceiling and my mind as my eyes meandered around the room until they reached the clock.

My stormy grey eyes shot open and my body lurched forward off of the bed. Nine o'clock, so close and yet so far. I quietly sneaked over to the full length mirror hidden away in the back of my closet and tore off the long sleeve collared dress that was left from the earlier outing. It made me look like a catholic schoolgirl. Some pervs found that look sexy, I mostly found it repulsive.

I searched through my clothes until I found the drawer I had hidden in the far back of my closet, it was filled with clothing too ostentatious to wear anywhere, but where I was going and too "secular" to wear around my step mother anyway. Anything worth wearing was in this drawer; anything worth cherishing was in my guitar case.

I slipped into a golden brown sequin shirt that draped on my frame perfectly. I can't really say I slipped into a pair of leather pants, more like forced myself into, but the final product was worth it. I placed my feet into a pair of black studded booties that instantly warmed my toes.

My excitement peaked as I grabbed for the worn black leather case, the handle sent shocks through my entire body. I stared in the mirror at Annabeth Chase… the real Annabeth Chase, not the fake one that I shed along with the pale, collared, long-sleeve, church dress. She was gone to me now, but only until morning.

I quietly tiptoed over to my bedroom window and forcefully pushed it open. The last few raindrops fell down the pane as the weather finally calmed. One benefit to living on the first floor was sneaking out whenever you desired, which I often did. The freshly dewy grass glistened in the night as the newly darkened and dampened asphalt pounded against my feet as I charged out into the cold night. Only I knew where I was going.

Percy's Point Of View

Champagne glasses clinked around me, in the hands of my publicist, manager, and agent. The cork of the bottle lay lifeless on the floor. "Seven Grammy Noms!" my manager shouted as they all took swigs of their champagne.

"To the one and only Percy Jackson!" My agent shouted as glasses began clinking again, I grabbed for one, when my hand was suddenly slapped away.

"Ow..." I growled, punctuating the 'w'. "Watch yourself," I began jokingly telling my publicist, "don't want to break the talent now do we?"

"We also don't want to talent to get liver disease…Now do we?" My publicist, Zachary, sneered at me. "You're also underage, if I do recall… way under age."

"Only by five years!" I reminded him, trying not to sound too young or immature. It was fine though, I had something stronger in a water bottle under the seat of the limo. As I drank more and more, the lights of the inner city blurred while we drove by. Suddenly the limo came to a halt, and my body slurred into the seat next to mine, more than I slurred my speech when intoxicated.

"More champagne!" my manager shouted as he hurried out of the limo door and into the liquor store the limo was parked by. He was very clearly drunk, either he was really excited about the Grammy nominations (which was highly unlikely), or he had some family problem he need to drink out of his mind. My agent immediately followed him out of the car.

"Will you be okay here by yourself for a few minutes?" Zachary asked me. "If you haven't noticed he kind of drank himself into oblivion and we... well I really want to make sure he doesn't hurt himself."

"I… will be fine." I slightly slurred as Zachary made thinly veiled attempts to check my breath for alcohol, I dodged every one until he finally left the limo.

Two things that don't mix well together are ADHD and alcohol, the lights of the hole in the wall club/bar across the way beckoned me and I, without any control of my body, left the limo to inspect it. I didn't check for streetlights or even look both ways. Cars zoomed past me as I made my way across the street. I slammed on the hood of a beat up Toyota that almost killed me, "Don't you know who I am?" I yelled at them. The door slightly opened as a giant tattooed man exited the car. Judging by the fact that my fan base was mainly adolescent girls with semi- questionable taste in music, I guessed he didn't, in fact, know who I was. I smiled meekly and ran into the bar before the juice-head could catch me.

I took my seat at a small black table in the back of the beat down bar, a perfect view of the stage welcomed me. I surmised that they were holding an open mic night by the near talentless people occupying the microphone on stage. I looked over to the side of the dark and dingy stage, where a block of sequins and a waterfall of sunshine like hair caught my eye. She smiled and chatted with the large man guarding the door, they clearly knew each other, though the age difference seemed too great for them to be dating. She was the type of person I would listen to.

Her hair was the color of melted gold and it cascaded down her shoulders and over her athletically built body until about her stomach. Subtle and large curls framed her face; they accentuated her almost vintage gorgeousness. Every time she blinked, her eyes shined like grey diamonds. They were tiny orbs filled with swirling thunderstorms. As the current occupant of the stage made his way off, the mystery girl bit her cherry red lips nervously, she made her way to the stage, slightly shaking as she sat down and moved the microphone stand closer to her. She pulled an exquisite Gibson Les Paul Standard plus Electric in the color wine red out of the beaten leather case she had beside her, a choice of guitar any pro would make. She looked downward at her settling frail hands as she strummed a bit before facing the audience.

"Hey!" the grey- eyed beauty spoke to the audience as they all cheered, "I know I'm no stranger to this place, but I seek nothing less than to amaze you every time I open my mouth." I chuckled a bit at her unintentional innuendo. "A lot has been getting me down lately;" she continued, the sexual jokes only getting worse in my head, "and I just needed this to make me feel better. I hope you enjoy."

She began strumming the first notes to a song I was incredibly familiar with, her fingers danced on the strings as she played and a heavenly sound sprinted around her mouth, until she finally set the beautiful note free.

Well I heard there was a secret chord  
>that David played and it pleased the Lord<br>But you don't really care for music, do you?  
>Well it goes like this:<br>The fourth, the fifth,  
>the minor fall and the major lift<br>the baffled king composing Hallelujah

Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah...

Your faith was strong but you needed proof  
>You saw her bathing on the roof<br>Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you  
>She tied you to her kitchen chair<br>She broke your throne and she cut your hair  
>And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah<p>

Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah...

Baby I've been here before  
>I've seen this room and I've walked this floor (you know)<br>I used to live alone before I knew you  
>And I've seen your flag on the marble arch<br>and love is not a victory march  
>It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah<p>

Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah...

there was a time when you let me know  
>What's really going on below<br>But now you never show that to me, do you?  
>But remember when I moved in you<br>and the holy dove was moving too  
>and every breath we drew was Hallelujah<p>

Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah...

Maybe there's a God above  
>all I've ever learned from love<br>Was how to shoot somebody who outdrew you  
>And it's not a cry that you hear at night<br>It's not somebody who's seen the light  
>It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah<p>

Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah...  
>Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah...<br>Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah  
>Hallelujah, hallelujah<p>

Her voice was rich, better than anything I'd heard before, even out of my own mouth. When her voice vibrated, it shook me. It filled my entire body, like I was drowning it, but there was no struggle. Her voice was one you wanted to drown in, you wanted it to fill your lungs and take all your air, because you didn't need it anymore, you just needed that voice. It was pure… innocent… raw… talent.

She played with the chords a little before she let the guitar drop slightly in her arms, brushing her thick blonde bangs from her face and tucking it quickly and gently behind her ears. The lyrics spoke to me, her voice penetrated me. I didn't really care for music, did I? I didn't care for much of anything anymore…

The silence hit me like a ton of bricks, dead on. I knew everyone was clapping, I could see them, but for some reason the silence in my head overpowered the applause. Floating in the silence were the slow motion taps of blonde woman's shoes on the dirtied stage floor. My mind was stunned, for a second, as the melody played in my heart. It sickened me, my breathing slowed and it felt like her music rapped around my heart, suffocating me in the process.

…I think I died that day…

A/N- Sooo, I'm not dead! I know I haven't updated my other story in quite a while, but I just hadn't had time and wasn't really feeling it. I've had this idea for quite a while and was never really sure just how to write it! As you know I reply to all reviews and all links are on my profile and I really think you should check them out! The song is Hallelujah by Leonard Cohen/Jeff Buckley! I'm glad to be back! Let me know if this sucks and I should re write it, let me know if it's awesome… just let me know! I love you guys and I'm sorry I've been away for so long! I have chosen Jayme Dee to portray Annabeth and she has an absolutely GORGEOUS voice! Looking forward to your reviews and I sincerely hope you like it!


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